HQ4 - Harleen Quinzell, Grief Counselor
by River9Noble
Summary: When someone central to the Batman universe has died, psychologist Harleen Quinzell is the hero Gotham needs! Set in the same AU as all my other HQ: Harleen Quinzell stories. TL;DR Harley and Joker in a consensual and loving kink relationship and she's a practicing therapist. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

_Finally, a story with chapters! Set in the same AU as my other Harleen Quinzell stories. TL;DR Harley and Joker in a consensual kink relationship where they truly love each other. Joker is based on animated series in voice and appearance, Harley and Poison Ivy a combo of animated series, Harley's comics, and my brain, Catwoman is New 52ish, Batman is Kevin Conroy, and everyone else is from the 60's tv show. I was inspired a bit for this story by the surprisingly well done LEGO Batman Movie, which did an insightful job analyzing the depth of Batman and the Joker's dysfunctional relationship. My other Harley one-shots give some back story, so do check them out - but it's not necessary to read them first. Enjoy! Please review if you like it._

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 ** _Chapter 1_**

 _Prologue  
_

"Have we ordered die flowers, yet?" Mr. Freeze asked the Penguin.

" _FLOWERS?"_ Poison Ivy screeched, throwing her arms up to shoot killer vines out. The Riddler quickly popped in front of her.

"Easy, _easy_ , Toxicodendron," he wheedled. "We're getting those fruit carving things that only _look_ like flowers." Ivy huffed.

"Well, all right then. We'd better be." She flounced off. Riddler whooped and winked at Mr. Freeze who breathed a sigh of relief.

"Danke schön. We were on thin ice there."

"I'll go change the order," the Penguin quacked and waddled off to find a secluded spot far away from Ivy to make his call. Upstairs, Catwoman lay on her bed stroking Isis and sniffing away tears while Harley gently rubbed her on the head.

"I can't believe he's really gone," Catwoman said softly.

"I know, Sugar," Harley replied. "When somebody's been around so long we start to think they'll be here forever." She sighed. "Mistah J is takin' it so hard, he must'a blown up twelve pedophiles already today. Get it out, though, I say. Better out than in, right?" Catwoman nodded and Isis purred.

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_

 _Six weeks later  
_

Bruce Wayne sat alone in the dark mansion, whiskey in hand, staring through the shadowed living room into the inky black night mocking him from the unshaded windows. Alfred would have closed the curtains. _Alfred…_ Bruce gulped his whiskey as a spasm of tears threatened to burst forth, then hurled the glass at the window. It hit the bullet-proof glass and shattered, the tiny pieces tinkling to the floor to meet their former cabinet-mates. Bruce doubled up, grabbing his hair as if the pain could stop the empty burning agony in his heart.

Then, with a disgusted cry, he flung his arm out to reach for the rest of the whiskey which he had conveniently placed on the side table. Except, it wasn't there. He swung his arm around in the dark, patting the table to see if it had fallen over. Maybe when he threw the glass? No bottle.

Bruce let out an enraged curse as he got down on the ground to grope around the floor, trying to find it. Frustrated, confused, and pissed as all hell, he grabbed the table by the legs and threw it across the room. The piano let out a jangled protest as it crashed, causing Bruce to erupt in a stream of profanity as he began kicking and punching the couch, yelling and screaming incoherent nonsense until finally, for the first time since feeling Alfred's hand go limp in his, he broke down in sobs. Collapsing on the floor, Bruce cried with the shattered, hysterical sobs of an abandoned child.

Half an hour must have gone by before he could finally move on to quiet whimpers. Bruce wiped his nose with his sleeve as he drew a shaky breath. His hand, moving back to his side, met a tissue. Bruce stiffened and whipped his head around, as if that would help in the dark.

"It's ok, Batsy, I'm here to help," he heard a quiet Brooklyn accent say gently.

" _Harley?"_ Bruce's shocked mind began racing. How the hell had Harley Quinn broken into Wayne Manor? And, wait a minute, what the hell was she doing at _Wayne Manor_ anyway, and good God, she had called him Batsy – he tried to spring to his feet, but the several glasses of whiskey he had downed before all the crying made him unsteady and he stumbled. Bruce reached for where he thought the couch was but he missed and was toppling over when two strong hands caught him and started steadying him.

"Take it easy, Batsy, you been drinkin' a lot tonight. That's becomin' a habit, huh?" Harley said as she wrapped an arm around his waist and started walking him to the couch. Bruce was too disoriented to protest as she got him seated, fluffing up a pillow to put behind him. Patting him kindly on the shoulder while he tried to piece together what was happening, she bounced off and returned a second later to place the box of tissues in his lap.

"Here we go," she said brightly. He felt her sit down cross-legged on the couch next to him, popping her gum. Bruce's gut finally caught up to the situation and tightened into a thousand knots.

"Harley," he said firmly.

"Yes, Batsy?" she replied sweetly.

"I. Am. Not. _Batman._ " He hissed. "I don't know what the hell you're doing here or what you think is going on – " He paused when he heard the scratching of a pencil on paper.

"What are you doing?" he snapped.

"Takin' notes," Harley said. "Go on, Batsy, you're doin' real good."

"It's pitch black," Bruce said.

"Uh huh," said Harley, still writing.

"You can't even see to write!" Bruce sounded completely exasperated. Harley's pencil never stopped scratching.

"I'm writin' by feel," Harley said. "It's a therapist skill, we have to be able to write our notes without breakin' eye contact with our client."

" _I am not your client!"_ Bruce yelled. "And I am _NOT_ _Batman!_ " Harley shuffled some papers around, pulled one out, and handed it to Bruce. He stared at it. A glow-in-the-dark chart stared back at him.

"Now you can see here, Batsy," Harley said, pointing with her pencil, "denial is one of the five stages of grief. You are right on track!"

 _I'm losing my mind_ , Bruce thought. _I'm drunk and I'm grief-stricken and I'm hallucinating Harley Quinn in my living room._ He jumped when Harley poked him with the pencil.

"Batsy, earth to Batsy!" she was calling. She giggled when he grabbed the pencil and snapped it.

"Anger, very good! That's another stage. Now some people think that the stages of grief are a straight line, but actually it's all jumbled and you jump back and forth and around and around –" she was pointing at the glowing chart with another pencil.

"Harley," Bruce said. He grabbed the pencil-holding hand gently this time. "Harley, stop. Just, stop. What is this? Tell me the truth. Why do you keep calling me Batsy? What are you doing here?" Harley took her hand back and sighed.

"We're all really worried about you, Batsy. Mistah J has been beside himself wonderin' if you're ok, and you haven't patrolled the city in weeks! You just sit by yourself in here in the dark, drinkin' and stuffin' it all inside and pushin' all your friends away."

"How do you know what I'm doing?" Bruce asked. "And _why do you think I'm Batman?"  
_

"Well, because you are." Harley sounded genuinely confused. "Everybody knows that." Bruce tensed.

"What do you mean, _everybody knows that?_ Why on earth would anyone even _think_ that?"

"Batsy, you're freakin' me out a little bit," Harley said. "Of course you're Batman. Who else in Gotham City is rich enough to have all your nifty gadgets? And we all know how traumatizin' it is for a little kid to lose their parents so violently. Plus you haven't put on the suit since Mistah Alfred died, which is very understandable… " Harley's voice got worried. "You really thought we didn't know it was you?" Bruce's voice sounded strangled.

"Batman keeps his identity a secret." Harley got perturbed.

"We thought that was just a joke…" her voice trailed off. Bruce's chest heaved.

" _Everybody_ knows? Who's everybody?" he demanded. Harley chewed her gum thoughtfully.

"Well, I mean, everybody. All the criminals, the petty ones plus the ones in Arkham, the police force knows, Commissioner Gordon, the Gotham citizens…" Harley shrugged even though Bruce couldn't see it in the dark. "We didn't think it was really a real secret."

"If it wasn't a real secret then why was I keeping it?" Bruce exclaimed angrily.

"Well, I always figured it was so's the police wouldn't have to arrest you for bein' a vigilante if they didn't have any evidence you was Batman."

" _Oh my God…"_ Bruce groaned. " _My life is over…"_ He leaned his head back on the couch, rubbing his face with his hands. "I can't deal with this. Not now. Not ever."

"Now you calm down just a minute," Harley said firmly. "Helpin' you deal with Mistah Alfred's death and gettin' your life back together is exactly why I am here. Nothin' about you bein' Batman is gonna change just because you thought your secret identity was actually a secret. The whole town's always known and it's no big deal at all, so quit your worryin' about it." Bruce frowned to himself.

"Are therapists supposed to be so bossy?" he countered.

"Well, I guess you wouldn't know, seein' as how you've never seen one before," Harley said sassily. "But seriously, Batsy, me and Mistah J and the whole gang has been really worried about how depressed you've become and we're gonna help you get through this. We all know how much Mistah Alfred meant to you and I know losin' him hurts real bad."

"Yeah?" Bruce said sarcastically. "What would you know about it? You're not even a real psychologist and you're dating an abusive maniac."

"Actually," Harley said haughtily, "I _am_ a real psychologist. I passed my state boards fair and square, just like I passed all my classes and got my degrees. I thought you were supposed to be a detective, Bats," she snarked. "I bet you haven't even read my doctoral thesis. It's very original on new methods of motivatin' criminals to reform and I guarantee you won't find another one like it on the internet. And," she continued, "me and Mistah J are in a consensual kink relationship, which you oughtta understand, bein' such a masochist yourself."

"I am _not_ a masochist," he retorted.

"Oh really?" said Harley. "What do you call not really datin' Catwoman even though you two love each other to pieces? And hangin' up the Batsuit for six weeks when bein' out there fightin' crime would make you feel much better? But instead you're sittin' here in the dark drinkin' when you have tons of super friends who love you and would be here with you. But you won't return their calls, 'cause the mighty masochist Batman doesn't want anybody around to keep him from hurtin'." Bruce was quiet so Harley continued.

"You wanna know what I know, Batsy? What I _know_ is that you can't deal with Mistah Alfred's death the same way you dealt with your parents dyin', 'cause Mistah Alfred ain't here to take care of you. And what I _know_ is that you are drivin' yourself into a deep depression which is gettin' very serious." She stood up. Bruce tried not to let his tears show through in his voice.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out," he growled.

"Oh, I ain't leavin'," Harley said. "And neither are you. Mistah Freeze iced all the doors shut."

 _More chapters to follow! See you soon in Chapter Two!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay in-between updates! I was in a car accident several weeks ago and being in pain and writing humor do NOT mix! Finally feeling better, so back at it. And don't worry, I have the rest of the story planned out in my head, so it's coming - just need to get it out._

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_

I flipped the lights on in the kitchen, pulled out a mixin' bowl, and started measurin' out the pancake mix and water. I heard Batsy come in after me but I didn't turn around because I wanted him to start talkin' more. I could feel his eyes drillin' into my back, though, as I stirred. When he finally talked, he sounded confused and suspicious.

"What are you doing?" he growled out. I kept stirrin' the batter to get the lumps out.

"Makin' pancakes," I said. "You need to eat. Plus, I could use a bite myself. When's the last time you ate somethin', Batsy?" He let out a real irritated sigh, but he pulled a stool out and sat down.

"You're using a mix?" he asked real snidely. This time, I did turn around, with my hand on my hip.

"You better get used to eatin' mixes, Batsy, 'cause you're gonna have to be cookin' for yourself now that Mistah Alfred's gone." He got sulky.

"I could hire a chef," he grumped back at me. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, we both know you ain't hirin' nobody to live here in this big house with you, Batsy. You don't like lettin' people in." I turned back around to heat the fryin' pan up. "I bet Mistah J would be happy to come cook for you sometimes, though. He's a real good cook, he makes his pancakes from scratch but I use the mix 'cause I don't like all the extra work." Batsy sounded amused.

"So the Joker's a gourmand? Well, he always did take to chemistry…" Then he paused. "Where did you get pancake mix from?" I shook my head, groanin' to myself.

"Batsy, there's this thing called a grocery store that non-billionaires go to shop at when they need food ingredients. Sheesh, you're gonna have to learn everythin', aren't ya?" Batsy got all huffy with me.

"I know what a grocery store is," he said, foldin' his arms across his chest. "But Alfred would never have had pancake mix in the mansion. Where'd it come from?" I rolled my eyes again, he was bein' so slow to catch on for someone who was supposed to be a great detective, but probably it was because he was still drunk.

" _I got it from the grocery store!"_ I told him, a little louder to wake his brain up. "I brought groceries with me 'cause I knew you wouldn't have nothin' in the house."

"Oh." Batsy sounded surprised and maybe a little impressed too that I thought of that. I shook my pancake spoon at him.

"I ain't dumb, ya know." He raised an eyebrow at me and wiped the batter off his face with a dish towel from the counter.

"I never said you were dumb, Harley," he said quietly.

"Well, you thought it though," I said as I started droppin' batter onto the pan. " _Not even a real psychologist… datin' an abuser… blah blah blah!"_ I glanced over at him. He looked kinda ashamed but he was still lookin' at me all sad, too, like he pitied me. He met my eyes and sighed.

"I just don't understand you, Harley," he said, finally. "You _are_ such a brilliant woman, and you had an amazing career ahead of you, and you threw it all away to be with that fiend." I laughed.

"Who says I threw my career away? Batsy, please, I worked very hard to become a psychologist. It's my passion to help criminals improve their lives!" I pulled my card out of my bra and handed it to him. "I'm in private practice now."

He stared at my card, speechless. It is a pretty spectacular business card, if I do say so myself. I designed it with a purple foil background to be all glitzy and catch the light, and then there's a nice sketch of my face all done up in my white and black makeup and jester's cap that I wear when I'm out with Mistah J. The tagline says _Dr. Harleen Quinzell – I'll turn your frown upside down!  
_

Batsy swallowed. He started to say somethin' but he was havin' trouble gettin' it out.

"You're… in private… practice?" is all he finally said.

"Yep!" I said back as I flipped the first pancake over and added some chocolate chips. "My phone number's on the back. I have a full list of clients but I took off a week to help you get back on your feet and then I'll make room for your regular appointments, don't worry. I won't abandon you." Batsy's eyes were lookin' all googly and glassy at me. I poured a glass of water for him and patted his hand.

"Drink this up, Batsy, you're lookin' a little pale. You're probably real dehydrated from all that alcohol in your system. I got some coffee brewin', but that's just 'cause it goes nice with pancakes. It ain't gonna sober you up, you know? That's a myth." He rubbed his head but he did take the glass and start gulpin' the water down.

"Harley… "

"Yeah, Batsy?" I squirted some whipped cream to make the clown hair and set his pancake down in front of him. "Dinner is served! Pancakes à la Mistah J!" He stared down at the smilin' chocolate chip clown face smilin' back up at him and suddenly he started gigglin'. I clapped my hands and jumped up and down! It was so good to see him smilin' and it gives me such a warm feelin' in my heart when I can see that I've really helped a patient.

"Harley…" he giggled. "Harley Quinn…"

"Yeah, Batsy?" He wiped some giggle tears from his eyes and picked up his fork.

"Thank you for the pancakes," is all he said, but I knew he meant a whole lot more.

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**_

 _ **More chapters coming! Also, please check out my other Harleen Quinzell stories which are all set in the same AU.  
**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note- long time in beteeen updates, I know. A year! Writer's block can be bad. I'm grateful to all the awesome fanfic authors on here whose stories inspired me to come back to this. Don't forget to check out my other Harley stories in the same AU, and please review!**

I stirred some sugar and cream into my coffee and added some whipped cream on top. Batsy gave me another one of his judgey looks. He was drinkin' his coffee black, of course.

"You want some whipped cream on top, Batsy?" I asked, holdin' out the can and wigglin' it enticingly.

"No," he growled with his superior Batman snark.

"Aww, come on, Batsy, live a little!" I said. "Try something new." I shook the can up gettin' ready to shoot it on his coffee but he frowned and moved his cup away.

"I said no, Harley. I don't need to put whipped cream on my coffee in order to drink it."

"Well, I don't either!" I said brightly. "But it's fun!" Batsy rolled his eyes.

"Coffee is not supposed to be fun," he said drily.

"Why not?" I asked him. He deliberately took a sip of his black coffee and sneered a little bit.

"Not everything in life needs to be _fun_ , Harley. Some of us don't need to put whipped cream and sprinkles on every little thing in life in a pathetic attempt to distract ourselves from our poor choices."

I clapped my hands and grabbed my notepad and started scribblin' down some notes.

"What are you writing now?" Batsy groaned. I grinned.

"I'm writing down that Batsy is a giant masochist who won't even let himself make his coffee more yummy." Batsy got a little angry then and raised his voice.

"I already told you, I'm not a masochist!"

"Then have some whipped cream," I said.

"I don't want whipped cream!" he yelled back. "Why can't you take no for an answer? Oh wait, I know why - because you're a psychotic criminal with no respect for boundaries." I giggled as I kept writin'.

"This is good stuff, Batsy," I said. "But actually I am not takin' no for an answer because I'm your therapist and my job is to push you out of your comfort zone in order to help ya get over your grumpy depression."

"Oh, and whipped cream will magically cure my depression?" he said real sarcastic like.

"You won't know unless you try!" I said all cheerfully. "Come on, Batsy, have a little whipped cream," I wheedled, reaching over with the can. He turned his back towards me on the stool. "Ok, then," I said, "if you don't want it on your coffee then how about right on your face!" and I shot some whipped cream all over his cheek.

Batsy jumped up with a snarl, wiping his face with his hand. "Harley!" he snapped in his scary Batman voice that made criminals pee their pants. I giggled and shot some more whipped cream right onto his nose. Batsy lunged for me but I was faster and I ran to the other side of the counter laughin', shootin' more whipped cream at him as I dodged.

He growled real angry and jumped on the counter to crawl over and grab me. I screamed and dropped to all fours and started crawlin', laughin' so hard as I tried to get away while still holdin' the whipped cream in one hand.

Batsy dropped down to the floor and grabbed my ankle. He started pullin' me towards him but as he pulled I flipped myself sideways and shot more whipped cream at him.

"Gahhh!" he sputtered as he kept haulin' on me and I kept shootin'. I was gigglin' and gigglin' to see old Bats tryin' to be so angry and scary with so much whipped cream drippin' all off his face and makin' puddles on his pretty Armani shirt. He tried to yank the can from me when he got me close enough but I held on real tight and he ended up pullin' me with the can so I crashed up into his chest.

I leaned my face up and started to lick the whipped cream off his cheek. He got the can from me then cause I'd loosened my grip and he threw it all the way across the kitchen into the cabinets on the other side but now he had me stuck to him lickin' his face like a little puppy dog.

"Harley, Harley, ew, stop it!" he cried, tryin' to push me off. I was laughin' so hard I could hardly talk.

"No!" I got out in between giggles and licks. "I'm going to lick the grumpy off of you!" Batsy is real strong but I am too, I work out with Cat and Ivy and go runnin' over the city with Mistah J. He was havin' trouble peelin' me off 'cause I could see he was tryin' not to hurt me when he did.

That made me feel warm fuzzies in my heart 'cause it meant I was already gettin' through to him as his therapist and he was feelin' a bond with me! Helpin' people really is the best feelin' in the world, except for maybe laughin' with Mistah J.

Since I was latched onto him like a parasite and he was feelin' conflicted about body slammin' me into the floor, Batsy finally started scootchin' his butt along the kitchen floor with me wrapped around him, still lickin' his face. He finally got to where he had thrown the whipped cream can.

In desperation (and also in my clinical perspective I saw a little bit of twinkly wicked revenge in his eyes), he grabbed the can, pointed it at my head, and shot my hair full of whipped cream! Yayyy! I was so proud of him for finally lettin' go a little bit and bein' silly! Plus the whipped cream squirtin' into my hair felt all gooey and funny and it made me laugh and laugh as I let go of his neck and fell backwards on the floor. I held my stomach 'cause it was jigglin' so hard from laughin' so much.

I wiped some of the whipped cream outta my hair onto my hand and licked it off, too, 'cause I really do love eatin' whipped cream. Still gigglin', I looked up at Batsy, who finally did have a small crinkly upturn at the corner of his mouth.

"See?" I said to him proudly. "Isn't whipped cream fun to eat?" He let out a small exasperated sigh but it had a tiny barely-there chuckle in it. Normal people probably wouldn't have heard it, but as a highly qualified and exceptional therapist, of course I did.

With a little glimmer of amusement in his eyes he suddenly lifted his arm and squirted the rest of the can of whipped cream all over my clothes until it made the pffffft empty sound. Then he did laugh out loud a tiny little bit as he stood up.

"Yeah, Harley Quinn, maybe it is," he said as he walked over to the sink and wetted a dish towel. He turned back to give me the Dark Night glare though as he wiped his face off. "But don't *ever* put it in my coffee."


	4. Chapter 4

_The therapy sessions continue... sorry for the long delay and for missing PRIDE month. Comment please, comments encourage me to write faster! Thanks for reading. Check out my other Harley stories in the same universe. Batman=Kevin Conroy._

"Why do you turn everything into a joke?" Batsy asked me later when I had the fire goin' in one of his kazillion livin' rooms and we were drinkin' more coffee (which he did not put whipped cream on, but I let that slide 'cause I had already accomplished my therapy goal for whipped cream. Plus, we had used up the whole can.)

I cracked my gum which I had put back in my mouth after finishin' the pancakes. "Why do you turn everythin' into a mopey, gloom and doom nightmare?" I asked him back.

"Old age made Alfred die, not me," he snapped. "I had nothing to do with this 'gloom and doom nightmare' I'm currently living in. It's not my fault that my life is always full of pain and loss."

"Oh no?" I said. Batsy glared at me.

"You don't seriously think I'm responsible for being depressed after losing Alfred," he snarled in a way that wasn't a question so much as a tiger-attack. I giggled 'cause he sounded so much like Catwoman when she gets mad and snaps at my Puddin'. He musta learned that from her.

I twirled my pigtail around my finger as I answered him. "Well, let's see, Batsy..." I said, "You won't return Robin or Commissioner Gordon's phone calls. Superman flew all the way out here to visit you and you didn't even answer the door."

"It's not like the trip wore him out," Batsy grumbled. "How did you know that, anyway? No, don't tell me - you have -"

"We have a giant secret telescope to spy on the BatCave!" I squealed. Batsy dropped his head in his heads.

"That's even more humiliating than I thought," he groaned.

"Oh, come off it, Batsy," I said. "You're not the only smart one around Gotham, ya know. Mr. Freeze is a really good scientist, he built it for us, and Ivy covered it up real good with her plants." Batsy just groaned worse, he sounded kinda like a sick cow.

"All my secrets ... " he moaned.

"You're as sick as your secrets!" I said helpfully. He sighed. "Besides," I said, "it was a therapy project I came up with to build teamwork. We all worked really hard on it. And it helps Mistah J so much now. He would just get sick with worry about you sometimes with you fightin' villains all night. That's why he used to cause so much mayhem, you know." Batsy's eyebrow went up.

"I don't know. Explain."

"Well, sometimes he couldn't find you when you was out patrollin' so he would do somethin' crazy that you'd have to come deal with. So he could see with his own eyes that you were ok."

"You're kidding me," Batsy said in a very doubtin' tone that I took offense to.

"I would never joke about someone's mental health!" I said back kinda angry. "Mistah J's anxiety caused him a lotta problems before he met me and he just had to deal with it the best he could. Now he can watch for when you get home and know you're ok."

"Well, now I don't leave Wayne Manor, so he has nothing to worry about," Batsy grumbled.

"Yeah, let's talk about that, Batsy," I said, chewin' my gum. "It's bad enough that we've gotta do your patrollin' for ya, but how come you ain't even been goin' to your pretend job?"

Batsy looked at me, real annoyed. "Wayne Enterprises is not a pretend job."

"Uh huh," I said. He frowned at me.

"Wait, what do you mean you've been doing the patrolling?" he asked. I beamed at him.

"Well, not me personally. But I did help make the costume 'cause I'm very good at sewin'," I explained. Batsy's eyes started to get a little glassy lookin' again like he wasn't sure if he was awake or dreamin', so I patted his hand to let him know I was really there as I kept explainin'.

"Mistah Riddler's been the one actually wearin' the suit 'cause he won the part. His audition beat everybody else's. Mistah J wanted it so bad and he thought Riddler would bomb 'cause you know how Mistah Riddler does that whoopity laugh all the time like he can't help it." Batsy was side-eyein' me but I kept talkin'.

"Mistah Riddler practiced a whole bunch, though, he does method actin' and he swooped around the lair for two days gettin' ready, he even slept hangin' upside down by his feet, and let me tell ya that really freaked Pengy out. But Mistah Riddler takes his actin' very serious, so he made Pengy wear Catwoman's lingerie to bed, although Cat told me later she sleeps in the nude and she only wears that for sex with you but Riddler insisted on having Pengy in some clothes to help him get into the role. But don't worry, Cat wouldn't give them any details about what you guys actually do romantically speakin', so Riddler had to improvise that part on his own - if he and Pengy did some role play, that is, which knowin' them they probably did, especially since they had Cat's nightie and all."

Batsy's jaw was hangin' wide open at this point. I bounced on the couch.

"I know, right, Batsy? Mistah Riddler is one dedicated actor! You're very lucky to have him be playin' you, he's been doin' a fabulous job scarin' all the petty crooks, they have no idea it's not the really real Batman chasin' them. Of course we had to pad the suit 'cause he's so skinny but he's really got your stompy strut and your scary swoop down, he studied so many YouTube videos of you to get it just right."

Batsy was still starin' at me all wide-eyed, and it was no wonder really because Mistah Riddler is such an amazin' craftsman and so dedicated to his art. But finally Batsy swallowed his awe.

"I don't sleep upside down!" he snapped. I gasped and put my hand over my mouth.

"Don't ever tell that to Mistah Riddler," I whispered. "He'll be so crushed that he got somethin' wrong," I said, moanin' and shakin' my head. It would just break Mistah Riddler's heart if he knew he'd made a mistake on such a crucial detail of his character study.

Batsy didn't look like he was listenin' though because he had grabbed his phone off the side table and was sendin' a quick text. I was so pleased to see him makin' some contact with the outside world that I overlooked his not payin' attention to me.

"Who did you text?" I asked, all nosey. Batsy raised an eyebrow at me.

"Cat. I told her she'd better not wear that lingerie she loaned out ever again," he said. I frowned.

"Why not? She could wash it." Batsy looked at me with wonder.

"Are you serious?"

"Are you?" I said, startin' to fume. "You'd better not be homophobic, Batsy. Especially not after bein' grand marshal of the Gotham Pride Parade." Batsy's jaw was sure gonna catch a lot of flies the way it kept hangin' open at me. He gritted his teeth when he closed his mouth and ground out his angry Bat voice.

"First of all, not wanting my girlfriend to wear lingerie that she loaned out to someone else to have sex in does not mean I'm homophobic. Germaphobic, maybe. Grossed out, possibly. It would be like using someone else's sex toys. Not happening."

"Really?" I said, honestly curious. "You wouldn't ever use someone else's toys even if you disinfected them?" Batsy's face was horrified.

"Ew! No!" I tapped my pencil thoughtfully.

"Hm, you know Batsy, people with OCD can be hyper fearful about germs, and you certainly demonstrate obsessive tendencies in other areas...I'll write that down," I said, scribblin' away again on my notes.

"You do that," Batsy huffed. "Write how completely abnormal I am for not wanting to fuck my girlfriend in lingerie she loaned to one of my mortal enemies, who happens to be gay, which has nothing to do with why I want her to throw that outfit out."

"Well, I hope not," I said, waggin' my pencil at him sternly. "There's gonna be a lot of disappointed Gothamites if you do."

"Yes, explain that," Batsy demanded. "Grand Marshal of the Pride Parade? I can't wait to hear about it." He was tryin' to be sarcastic but I dedicated a little genuine interest under there. After all, my therapist trainin' taught me that sarcasm is a way to hide true feelin's, so I smiled at him.

"It was wonderful, Batsy, you should get online and watch the videos. I made Mistah Riddler a rainbow cape and he threw rainbow batarangs off the float that exploded into rainbow glitter. Mistah J made those for him." Batsy rubbed his forehead but I think he was fightin' a smile.

"What did Cat have to say about all that?" Batsy said. "I think she might take a little offense to me ditching her for men, even fictitiously." I waved that concern away with my hand.

"Oh, well, you came out as bi. Riddler did want to say gay but you were right, Catwoman wasn't gonna have that, she said she'd never be able to date you publicly if he did that, so they compromised on bi. You gave a very movin' speech. Here, let me show ya the headlines." I reached over and grabbed his phone and his thumb and unlocked it. I googled quickly and then handed it back to him.

"Here we go!" I said. Batsy finally looked amused.

"Batman Says Bi to Bullying," he read out loud. "That's cute."

"Yeah, it was real nice," I said. "Kids all over Gotham been postin' video messages about how ashamed and weird they felt if they hadn't come out yet or how they got bullied in the queer community for bein' bi or in school or their families for bein' gay but now they feel more relieved and comfortable since you admitted who you really are." Batsy cocked an eyebrow.

"Great, except it's not who I really am," he said. I shrugged my shoulders at such a tiny little worry.

"Well, you're not a real bat, either, Batsy, now are you?" I pointed out. "I'll tell you what," I said, coming up with a smart bargain on the spot like good therapists do. "You don't tell the kids you're not bi and I won't tell Riddler you don't sleep upside down."

Batsy sighed deeply but after a minute he reluctantly stretched out his hand. I grabbed it and shook with real happiness 'cause I didn't need to be an arctic expert like Mr. Freeze to see that Batsy's icy heart was startin' to melt just a little bit under my outstandin' therapeutic guidance.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Chapter Five._**

 _Three months later. Harley's therapy progress notes._

Batsy had actually made an effort to get the dinin' room lookin' nice, he'd put out some fancy candle holders on the table and found a clean tablecloth. I was so proud of him for doin' what we'd talked about and takin' tiny actions to combat his bad depression. This was the first dinner party he'd ever hosted by himself without Mistah Alfred so it was a big deal for him!

Of course, Batsy wasn't doin' the cookin' himself, 'cause otherwise we'd be eatin' boxed mac and cheese, but I had gotten him to see that askin' other people for help was a victory, not a failure. It took some convincin', by which I mean a whole lotta convincin' and pleadin' and teasin', but Batsy had finally taken my advice and asked Mistah J to cook for us. Three months ago I was doubtin' that Batsy would ever reach out to Mistah J to make friends, even though Mistah J loves him so much and wanted so badly to be here for him – and now Puddin' is cookin' dinner at Wayne Manor! Batsy still won't say they're friends, but I think someday I'll get him there. Just bein' so brave to trust Mistah J with the cookin' and to let him into Wayne Manor in the first place says so much about his progress.

It is so satisfyin' to be such a great therapist! I love helpin' my clients go from needless sufferin' to happier and more fulfillin' lives. I could tell with my professional clinical assessment skills that Batsy was feelin' pretty nervous about havin' us all over, but Cat was on it and doin' a great job rubbin' up against him with her arms around his waist, purrin' compliments in his ear to help keep him calm.

None of the SuperFriends were here tonight, Batsy hasn't been brave enough yet to admit to them that he's been socializing with the Society of Prisoners Into Vigilantes. He's really softened up towards us though, I think it touched him more than he let on that we named ourselves the SPIVs in honor of Mistah Alfred's Britishness. Of course Mistah Riddler came up with that name, he's so smart and tricky with words. We almost voted him down because none of us knew what a spiv was (and Puddin' was still upset that he lost the Bat Patrol audition to him) but Mistah Riddler convinced us that Batsy would get it and would like it and he was right.

Riddler was lookin' very dashin' tonight, if I do say so myself, in his formal question mark suit and cane. Pengy always looks fabulous, of course, he dresses up every day of the week and even in his sleep (Cat made him show her his pj's in exchange for loanin' him her nightie, and they are just as classy as his daywear. He wears black silk boxers with a white pearl button down silk tank top; it has a purple ribbon bow at the top and the armbands are black instead of white for that penguin pop. Pengy needs to give Ivy a makeover 'cause aside from her green glamour look I made her for SPIV business, she just dresses like a boring scientist. Hm, I think teachin' her to take pride in her appearance will be our next therapy goal. I'll make a note of that.)

Mistah Freeze and Ivy were chattin' pleasantly with the two of them while we waited for my Puddin' to come out to serve dinner. It makes me so happy that Ivy and Mistah Freeze started datin'! Poor Mistah Freeze has been so isolated from physical contact because of his temperature condition. He could never find a girl willin' to date him without contact sex and of course his loneliness and frustration is partly why he caused so much trouble before I started rehabilitatin' him.

Cat was kinda surprised that Ivy was into him at all, she thought Ivy was a lesbian, but Ivy told her no, she's pansexual (I already knew that of course, 'cause she confided to me in our sessions how she has sexual nerves in her plant extensions and pleasures herself with them, but naturally I couldn't gossip about our therapy work to Cat).

Seein' as how Ivy and Mistah Freeze is both scientists they became good friends when we was buildin' the giant telescope. (I am such a genius with my therapy ideas!) When they fell in love Mistah Freeze just assumed they couldn't have sex, but you can bet a certain part of him heated right up when Ivy told him that some plants love the freezin' cold weather. (Clinical clarification: I'm just kiddin' about the heat, that part actually freezes solid like an ice cube, but if therapy notes aren't for jokes then I'm not a Clown Princess!)

Anyways, finally Mistah J came out and said, "Dinner is served! Harleykins, come and help me bring it out."

"Of course, Puddin!" I said, bouncin' off to the kitchen to grab the dishes with him.

"I'll help," Batsy said, givin' Cat a quick kiss before he followed me. In the kitchen, Batsy raised his eyebrows. "It smells good," he said in disbelief.

"Don't sound so surprised, Batsy," Mistah J cooed, "Harley told you that I'm an excellent chef."

"She told me," Batsy said, "but then she said you were going to cook some vegan crap to make Cat happy so I stocked the freezer with frozen pizza to eat later."

"Batsy!" I said, jumpin' up and down and clappin' my hands. "You learned to cook frozen pizza? I'm so proud of you!" Batsy gave me a little half-smile, he looked a little embarrassed at my praise, but it's good for him to learn how to take compliments. It's not easy rehabilitatin' a masochist, let me tell ya! But with my geniusly creative therapy exercises, Batsy is startin' to be a little less grumpy and miserable all the time. Gettin' him to save the masochism for sex has helped so much. Honestly, I can't believe he and Cat had never tried it before, because hello, BatCuffs and a cat'o'nine-tails and a sulky superhero who thrives on pain? What can I say, half of bein' a great therapist is pointin' out the obvious to people.

I grabbed the eggplant fauxmesan while Batsy got the rolls and Puddin' took the salad. In the dining room we all crowded down at the end of the fancy million mile long dining table so we wouldn't have to yell at each other while we ate, although Batsy had whispered to me earlier that he kinda wanted to put Mistah Riddler way down at the other end because all he does is yell and whoop and we would have heard him just fine. Plus when Riddler gets all excited he likes to stand on chairs and dance on the table but I told Batsy that I've been workin' very hard with Mistah Riddler to not dance on the dinner table anymore and plus me and him had talked ahead of time about good behavior for dinner parties and he had promised to stay on the floor if he felt like he had to spring up and go whirlin' around. Batsy just sighed and said fine and I gave him an encouragin' pat on the arm because he's startin' to see that takin' my advice always pays off.

"So, Joker," Cat said as we all started eatin', "B is finally coming around to letting me turn Wayne Manor grounds into a Big Cat Sanctuary."

"Fabulousss!" Puddin' said with enthusiasm. "I'll get right to work on installing the cameras," he added with an eager glint in his amazin' green eyes.

"What cameras?" Bats asked.

"The cameras to watch the cats," Cat said quickly, lookin' real hard at her food as she cut up the eggplant.

"To watch the cats _eating_ people!" Joker cackled with glee, not noticin' that Cat was tryin' to hide that part. Batsy laid down his fork.

" _Eating_ people?" he said in full-on Batman voice, lookin' down at Cat with a big frown and takin' her arm. She looked up at him with her big adorable cat eyes and began to purr, rubbin' her hands along his chest.

"Now, baby, hear us out," she pleaded seductively. Batsy tried but it's very difficult for him to resist Cat when she turns the charm on, so he growled out reluctantly,

"I'll _listen._ But - " Mistah J broke in all eager, bouncin' up and down in his seat like a little kid.

"Now you know, Batsy, that I have been _very_ well behaved this past year since my Harley has been helping me," he started out earnestly. Batsy sighed.

"I know….." he said, pinchin' his eyebrows. "Where is this going…?"

"Well," Mistah J with delight. "When CatWoman told me of her idea for a Big Cat Sanctuary, with my new and noble heart, I said to her, Catwoman, I said, I know that cats need to eat meat, but of _course_ we can't be sacrificing innocent animals for their meals, now can we?" he said in his dramatic pitch.

"I suppose not…" Batsy said slowly, soundin' like he didn't like where this was goin', although he didn't need to worry because I've really got my Puddin' so turned around that he thought of his great idea all by himself without even needin' my help! And with Cat bein' a vegan herself, Batsy obviously understood how important this was to her to not needlessly kill any animals at all if there was another way so I felt pretty confident that he was gonna agree to our plan.

"So, where can we find an ethical source of meat for these darling animals to feast on?" Mistah J went on grandly, spreadin' his arms wide. "And do you know what I thought?" he asked Batsy excitedly.

"Nooo…" said Batsy, lookin' like he was gettin' a headache.

"I thought," Mistah J went on, undeterred, "Joker, here you are doing the world a valuable service by ridding it of pedophiles and sex offenders. But what if I could kill two perverts with one stone, as it were, and help Cat's wild friends while continuing my crusade?" Batsy tensed, lookin' between Puddin' and Cat's eager faces.

"Oh, God," he groaned.

"So I had the most fabulous idea!" Mistah J declared, throwin' his arms up into the air. "I shall _catch_ the sex offenders with my dastardly traps and mayhem, and Cat shall _feed_ them to her beasts!" Batsy groaned loud and long, buryin' his head in his hands.

"That's so not legal," he moaned. "There's no way you can do this at Wayne Manor. We'll all get arrested."

"Nonsense!" Pengy said, rappin' his fist on the table. "I have every politician in this city in my pockets," he puffed out around his cigarette holder. "No one will officially know."

"And unofficially?" Batsy said, lookin' at him, then at Mistah J and finally Cat. "I have a bad feeling about why Joker needs to install cameras." Puddin' started to say somethin' but Cat interrupted him, gently holdin' up an elegant long-nailed paw in his face and shakin' her head with pursed lips.

"Honey," Cat said sweetly to Batsy, "there are some things in life that you should just leave to us."

"This would be something in _death_ that I'm leaving to you," he grumbled. "I am still not comfortable with the idea of _killing_ people," he complained. "You know how I feel about that."

"I know, sweetie, I know," Cat purred, rubbin' her forehead and cheek on his shoulder before she gazed up at him adoringly.

"But you've been able to admit finally that the legal system is broken, and we thank Harley for her very good work with you on being less black and white with your sense of justice, and you do know that sex offenders should be jailed for life and instead they're given 6 months or a few years, or even _parole_ with a suspended sentence…" Batsy sighed.

"I know," he said. "I know. I don't want innocent people getting hurt. It's just - "

"I know, baby," Cat consoled, "and we all appreciate your willingness to tolerate your own discomfort by looking the other way. This is a win-win for everyone, sweetie," she said soothingly.

"And I vill frost your windows for you so you do not see any bloodshed," Mistah Freeze said kindly. "As far as you are concerned, _nothing_ at all is happening out back."

"And I'll be growing a really thick jungle, Bruce," Ivy said, reaching out a soothing hand across the table. No one from the street will be able to even see into the grounds by the time we move the cats in. It'll be just fine, you'll see." Batsy heaved one more big sigh.

"Ok, fine," he said, rubbin' his head. "Fine. Just don't involve me in the details."

"We never do!" Mistah J cackled.

Batsy's head shot up at that so I said quickly "Who's ready for dessert?"

"Ah, yes!" Mr. Freeze exclaimed, gettin' up from the table. "The Joker and I are collaborating on the most schöne baked Alaska."

"Hoo hoo hoo hoooo!" Riddler yelped. "Riddle me this, Batman! If Mississippi bought Virginia a New Jersey, what. would. Dela. warrrrrrre?"

"Idaho," Batsy said, shakin' his head with a little smile. "Alaska."

**The End**

**But just of this story**

 _More adventures in this universe will follow. Please read and review, your reviews give me life!_


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